


The Vulcan Dreams

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Come Inflation, Comeplay, Crying, Desperation, M/M, Overstimulation, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: In the lead-up to the Pon Farr, Spock dreams of Jim.





	The Vulcan Dreams

The Pon Farr comes.

It comes with little warning, striking suddenly at the approximate seven year mark, but there is no exact science to the prediction of one’s next cycle – it might arrive at seven years and three days, or seven years and eleven months. One cannot be exactly certain, though it has to do, Spock knows, with things as varied as one’s natural hormonal balances, one’s meditation preferences, and one’s diet.

But in the time that leads up to the Pon Farr, one is warned. In the preceding month, the dreams begin.

Spock barely dreams, as a rule.

Occasionally, something misty will come through him while he sleeps – sensations, whispered words, hazy images. The Vulcan meditation cycle precludes the strongly overpowering dreams that Humans partake in, and removes any especially heavy imagery or sound.

But when the Pon Far comes, so too do the dreams.

Spock knows he is dreaming.

He stands alone, surrounded on every side by a deep, black expanse. A light fog hangs heavily in the air, and he is standing barefoot on a red, powdery ground. He drops to a crouch, his Starfleet trousers clinging tightly to his thighs and calves: they are tighter than is regulation. Dragging a finger over the earth beneath him, he feels its thickness and its weight, and the scent of it rises from the ground to meet him.

Vulcan. The homeworld calls to him.

“Spock,” Jim says, breathily. He is naked and he glistens with sweat, and his pink lips are parted. Spock wishes to bruise them with his own. Jim kneels in the centre of a bed, but the bed does not belong to Spock, and he has never seen it before – it is large and sprawling, and it has large, black posts at its head and its foot. “Spock, please,” Jim begs, and his wrists are tied to the bars of the footposts, keeping him in place, bent slightly to force the kneeling position.

A moment ago, Jim was sat back on his heels, and he was tied to nothing, but that such alterations and sudden movements are the nature of dreams.

Spock takes a few steps forwards, toward the bed, and he reaches out, touching his fingers over the slick flesh of Kirk’s naked flank. The red dust clinging to him stains Kirk’s skin, leaving two stark lines over his hip.

The animal nature of the Pon Farr has not yet taken hold of Spock, but in his partner he sees it starkly, feels it pulse through the bond: Jim is open and aroused, and desperation radiates from him as smoke from a fire. His body trembles, his chest rising and falling with speed, and Jim lets out a soft whine, burying his face against his own, bound wrists.

Jim’s hips shift, thrusting forwards by a fraction of an inch before pressing back, grinding himself against the air. The Pon Farr has struck him in this dream world, and Spock is struck with pain to see Jim so weighed down with agony.

Spock is on the bed now, his clothes folded neatly on the ground, and he is behind Jim. He is hard, his length thick, and the dusky green of his flesh contrasts with Jim’s own. His backside is pale, and Spock lays his fingers upon the buttocks, pressing the pads of his fingers into Jim’s skin. He is very hot to the touch, and Spock feels Jim’s desire to cry out, but he muffles it against his own hands.

His lips twitch.

He is driving into Jim, thrusting in long, slow movements of his hips, filling Jim to the brim and then drawing himself out until only his head remains, spearing Jim slightly open. Jim is whining from deep within his throat, clasping tightly at the bars he is bound against, arching his back as best he can against Spock’s thrusts, and when Spock’s orgasm comes, he feels himself paint Jim’s insides.

Jim is on his back, still tied in place, his head turning from side to side, his teeth biting into his lower lip as he does his best to stifle his moans, and his cock twitches as he comes, spattering white upon his own belly. Spock touches over his nipples, pulls at them, draws his fingernails over them, and Jim does his best to wrap his legs about Spock’s thighs, does his best to pull Spock deeper as Spock rocks within him, deeply within him.

Spock comes again.

Jim is on his side, and he is sobbing, sobbing loudly, with one of his legs over Spock’s shoulder and his thighs parted as widely as Spock can part them. Tears cling wetly to Jim’s reddened cheeks, sticky and shiny under the dreamy light, and he moans openly as Spock drives himself inside him.

Again, Spock comes.

Jim is empty, his testicles drawn tightly beneath his twitching cock, and he is begging incoherently in a language Spock knows is not Federation Standard. Jim begs, and he begs, but he does not beg for Spock to stop – he begs for Spock to never, ever cease.

Spock promises himself he will not.

There is a curve to Jim’s belly, Spock realises, and he draws his fingers over it, frowning slightly. It is not the natural line of his th’y’la’s body, but something unnatural, something… more.

Were Spock not a Vulcan, but a Cardassian, or a Klingon, he would grin.

“Spock,” Jim is wailing. He is sprawled out on his chest, his knees either side of his body where he is flattened against the mattress, and when Spock thrusts, his sensitive ears can pick it up: Jim _sloshes_ with the movements. He hears the _slursh_ and _slup_ within him, hears the pounding beat of Jim’s heart, underneath the man’s moans. Spock digs his fingers into Jim’s hips, and he bites a mark into his shoulder, a mark that bleeds and leaves more red streaks across Jim’s skin. “Spock!”

Jim has no more tears to cry, and he is gasping in heavy breaths, on his hands and knees with his eyes tightly shut. The curve to his belly is obscene, now, so obscene that Jim must feel weighed down with it, must feel _fat_ with it.

Spock grabs Jim by the hips, ignoring his scream of agonized ecstasy, and he draws Jim down atop him. Jim whimpers, his hands splayed on Spock’s chest, impaled upon Spock’s length, and his belly fat and heavy upon Spock’s own. Jim attempts to move, attempts to roll himself down onto Spock, but he is too heavy, too overwhelmed – he succeeds only in shifting Spock inside him, and he bites hard upon the inside of his own cheek.

His hands reach out, cupping the rounded swell to Jim, feeling the weight of Spock’s own seed inside him, and Spock feels a savage _glee_ , a… Sense of territory.

He slaps the flesh, and he hears the hollow slosh within Jim, like a wave crashing on a distant shore: Jim buckles, cries out.

The Pon Farr is beginning to recede.

—

Spock’s eyes open. He is lying in a bed he knows, far from the home world, far from the dream world. He turns his head slightly to the side. Jim sprawls beside him, his face buried in the pillow, a cover tangled about his body and clinging to his skin. A sweat sheens on his form – when Spock dreams, the bond between them reflects it.

Touching his hand to Jim’s flank, he traces where the smears of Vulcan sand had stained Jim within the dream.

The Pon Farr comes.

Spock does not fear it.

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are open if you have any! Info about them is [right here!](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/post/160853818533/request-commission-information)


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